These Four Walls
by em j
Summary: My first CSI fanfic. As Sara's emotions begin to get too much for her, she ends up in a dangerous situation. Will the other CSIs be able to ensure her safety, and begin to understand why she is how she is? GSR COMPLETED
1. Chapter 1

This is my first CSI fanfic and actually my first fanfic in a very long time (previously I have made attempts at Spooks, Wire in the Blood and Casualty.) From the start I will apologise for my English/Scottish roots which mean I know painfully little about Las Vegas and actually America in general, aside from what I see on the TV. Therefore if any references I make are incorrect then it is probably down to my Britishness and I apologise!

Aside from that little explanation please feel free to review, and flame, as much as you like! I am open to criticism – hopefully it can only lead to improvements in my writing (which I profess is not any kind of masterpiece!)

* * *

The harsh ringing of the telephone, painfully close to Sara's ear, woke her with a start. A stab of pain shot through her neck as she sat up; that would teach her for falling asleep with her head on a desk. She glanced, through tired eyes, at the clock. It was 2p.m. She should be at home, feet up, dozing in a position that did not lead to excruciating pain. But who was she kidding? Everyone expected her to be here way outside of working hours; she was even past worrying about the fact that everyone expected her not to have a social life. She reached clumsily for the phone.

"Sara Sidle, Las Vegas Crime Lab."

"Sara, it's Grissom. I need you to get down here now."

Sara sighed as Grissom continued to talk, at her, not to her. Only just aware of what he was saying, she noted down where exactly she had to go and hung up. Oh well, an hour of sleep was better than none at all.

* * *

When she next returned to the lab, Sara was unable to think straight. And it was not through lack of sleep. The scene she had just surveyed had to be one of the most horrific she had ever witnessed. A twenty six year old woman. Beautiful. Well, she had been once. So much blood. Of course, Sara could cope with blood. She had seen enough of it in her lifetime to fill an Olympic swimming pool ten times over. But this was different. There had been blood where it had seeped from the victim's head, her arms, her stomach. Her face had been carved into like a piece of meat. Someone had been determined to ruin that pretty face. The smiling image of Jennifer Thornton, on holiday, face glowing with happiness, haunted Sara. It had sat there on the mantelpiece above her body, serving an all too gruesome reminder of what had once been. Whoever had killed Jenny was, in Sara's mind, pure evil.

Sara shook her head in a futile attempt to rid her brain of the graphic images. She had taken cases far too personally many times before and knew she could not afford to do so again.

* * *

"How long had you known Ms Thornton?"

"About a year."

"And how long had you been in a relationship with her?"

"Pretty much the whole of that year."

Sara stared at the man sitting in front of her. Philip Bowran was ashen faced but other than that he displayed no signs of emotion towards the fact that his long term girlfriend had just been hacked to death. Sara had taken an immediate dislike to him. In fact dislike was not strong enough a word. No tears. No anger. Just calm collection. The calm collection of a killer.

"Did you kill your girlfriend?"

"Excuse me?"

Even Sara herself did not know what had sparked the outburst, but now she had started there was no way to control it. She pushed her chair back, the legs scratching against the floor, and stood up, anger throbbing in her blood.

"You killed her and now you can't even bring yourself to display any feelings about it."

"I came here to answer questions, not be accused! My girlfriend has just been found dead and I am feeling bad enough without you telling me I killed her!"

"Bad! You don't even care!"

At that moment the door to the interview room came flying open and Gil Grissom marched in, grabbed a struggling Sara by the arm and pulled her outside. Sara wrathfully noted Philip smirking at her as she slammed the door shut behind her.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"My job – catching a murderer!"

"There isn't the slightest speck of evidence against that man."

"As yet there's barely any evidence at all. But he did it. I know it."

"You have been getting more and more out of control recently, Sara. I don't know what's wrong with you but you have to sort it. I want you to take some of that holiday you're owed – Lord knows there's enough of it."

"I don't need a holiday, Grissom. I need to lock that man up."

"It wasn't a suggestion, Sara, it was an order."

And with that Gil Grissom opened the door to the interview room and shut it behind him, leaving Sara and her raging emotions to themselves.

* * *

When at last Sara did reach her apartment all she wanted was to be back in the lab. Knowing and accepting that that was not an option she instead chose to sit on her sofa and draw her knees up to her face. She felt her eyes fill up and hastily wiped away the moisture. But soon she had no control over the tears that were flowing from her eyes. Recently she had had no control over any of her emotions. She could be up one minute and the next like this, crying as though her life were at an end. Every case she saw involving a dead woman was manipulated in her mind until she had convinced herself the victim was entirely defenceless and innocent, and the perpetrator of the crime her evil, violent husband/boyfriend/long term partner; whatever the scenario she could make it fit. Make it fit in a way which allowed her to ensure justice. Each time she came across a case like this one she was determined to make it the one; the one which would heal all her emotional wounds and allow her to close the door on her past. But she knew that was not going to happen. Interfering in lives which were nothing to do with her and turning a murder into the crime she wanted it to be was not going to change her. All it had served to do was turn her into an emotional wreck.

What was it Grissom had once told her? That everyone needed a distraction or the job would screw them up in the end. Ok, so maybe those weren't his exact words but he had the right idea. Somehow she had never been able to see him as a rollercoaster kind of guy but whatever it was he did when he wasn't working must work. How frequently did Gilbert Grissom come home and rock himself to sleep with tears running down his cheeks? Well, Sara had no official witness but she would be willing to wager a large amount of money that it was not a regular occurrence.

She picked herself up from the sofa and stumbled over to a mirror. She could hardly bear to look at her sorry reflection. Eyes red raw from nights of crying. Hair tangled and struggling to escape from a messy ponytail. Her face was drawn, her cheekbones jutting out. She had seen corpses that looked better than she did right now. Re-examining her pallid and emaciated face she wondered when she had last eaten. Failing to remember the date and location of her last full meal, she turned to the even harder task of placing when all this had begun. When had she had become unable to emotionally detach herself from any case? Eventually she conceded that it had been a gradual progression. She had always been good at hiding her emotions from the outside world. She liked to think she still was – outbursts like this only happened when she was in the privacy of her own home.

But in the past she had also perfected the art of keeping her feelings locked so deep inside herself that they were out of even her own reach. Yet somehow, over the last few weeks they had begun to fight back and were now in control of her body. Sara's greatest fear was that soon they would escape and it would not only be the four walls of her apartment which witnessed her breakdowns but other people. And she could not afford to let that happen.


	2. Chapter 2

I'm working pretty speedily, whether anyone's reading or not! Here's chapter two, and no doubt chapter three will be along pretty soon too!

* * *

Sara winced as she saw Grissom approaching her the moment she walked through the doors to the lab the next morning.

"Sara, one night does not count as leave."

"I'm fine."

"I didn't ask how you were."

_You never do._

"Go home, Sara."

_I'm not a bloody dog, Grissom._

"You look a mess. You need the time off – you need to get a hold of yourself. And why am I standing here repeating myself? I told you all this yesterday."

_How can he stand there and talk to me as if I were a naughty child and he the headmaster? There was a time when I thought he might care for me. When I cared for him. But I look at him now and there's no emotion – nothing. Who was I kidding? I could go home and never come back and he'd never notice. Actually, worse, he's probably feel relieved. It would be nice for him to get rid of all my mood swings. Why can't he understand that all I need is to talk to someone? A shoulder to cry on; some company one evening. I don't want to return to an empty flat night after night…_

"Sara?"

Sara was jolted back to reality by Grissom's hand on her shoulder. Even at a time like this the touch of his hand on her skin sent shivers down her spine. And then the moment passed and she was suddenly aware of a river of tears cascading down her cheeks. She looked into his eye sand could not bear what she saw. No compassion. No concern. Just pity. Pity the poor woman with her raging hormones and no life outside of work.

"Sara, I'm sorry, but we don't want people seeing you like this here."

"Wh-what?"

_Could she be hearing him right? She was having an emotional breakdown in the corridor and he was worried about how it might look!_

"Of course not, Grissom! We wouldn't want people to think you can't control your staff!"

She stared right through the shocked look on Grissom's face and continued to shout.

"I'll go. Don't you worry. But don't expect to see me back here! You want to know why I'm like this? It's you! You and your bloody job. Well, you can stuff it where the sun don't shine, Gilbert Grissom. Stuff my holiday leave. Stuff the whole poxy job. And stuff you!"

And with that she turned and ran. She ran and ran until she could run no more. And then she sat down and sobbed, as she had done the previous night, and the night before that, and every night for the last few months.

She didn't look back but if she had done, she would have seen Grissom standing in the corridor staring at the doors through which Sara had just fled and struggling to hold back his own tears.

* * *

What had he said? He hadn't meant to sound uncaring. Was that how it had seemed? When he told her to go home, and that people shouldn't see her that way, he hadn't meant it the way she'd taken it. He couldn't care less about what people thought of his staff management. But he did care about Sara. And he knew she wouldn't want her colleagues to see her like that. That wasn't the Sara they knew and loved. And it wasn't the Sara he knew and loved either.

Love.

Was that the right word? It was four simple letters yet combined they were so powerful. The implications of them were so great. He had never confessed to anyone that he loved Sara Sidle and certainly had never said it to her ace, so somehow it didn't seem real. As the saying goes, you had to see it, or in this case hear it, to believe it. Yet what he had felt when she had fled the lab, tears running down her cheeks, had been so strong how could it be anything other than love?

Her words resounded painfully in his head. _'You and your bloody job.' _Had she meant it? Did the job, and more importantly, Gilbert Grissom himself, cause her so much pain that she had been forced to leave. And was she really not coming back? What would he do if…

"Gil? Gil?"

How long had he been sitting here, pondering? He glanced up to see Catherine Willows staring down at his forlorn figure, a trace of impatience in her face, but far more, concern showing in her eyes. He immediately sat up straight and attempted to regain some composure.

"Yes, sorry Cath, I was miles away."

Realising probing would gain her no further knowledge, Catherine resigned herself to the fact that one day she would find out what was bothering Gil, and continued as though nothing had happened.

"I need to speak to Sara about some of the evidence she processed on the Jennifer Thornton case. Is she around do you know?"

"No."

"Oh." Catherine coughed awkwardly, sensing there was something she was missing. "Well, do you know when she will be?"

"She's gone."

"Don't tell me she's taken some of that leave she's owed? Well, miracles do happen after all."

"No, she's gone. Period. She's not coming back." It hurt him even to say it.

"What?"

"Look, Cath, I'm going to have to speak to everyone together, but later. Now, is there anything I can do for you on the Thornton case?"

"Well, the evidence isn't looking good for Jennifer's boyfriend."

That meant that after all they'd been through, Sara had probably been right with her outburst yesterday.

This day just got better.

Seems like it was time they paid Philip Bowran a visit.

* * *

Sara had decisions to make. There was no turning back now. When she sat and thought about it, she wasn't entirely sure how she had kept going as normal for the last few months.

She had already started packing her things away in boxes. She had no where to go, no other job to do, but after the day's events it was as if something in her mind had clicked. She couldn't stay here. She wasn't allowing herself to think of what she was leaving behind, or who she was leaving behind.

The last thing she felt she had to do was get some closure as far as the job was concerned. Her emotions had got the better of her in so many cases and she was determined not to leave Las Vegas with one more ruined case behind her. She had an apology to make, and one last case to deal with before she left.

Seems like it was time she paid Philip Bowran a visit.


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks for the few reviews - they are much appreciated! Any more will always be welcome!

* * *

Knocking on the door, Sara swallowed her pride. She needed this closure and she could not afford to blow up in Philip Bowran's face once again. In fact, as the door swung open, Bowran looked like the one more likely to blow up.

"What the hell are you doing here? I was released, fair and square. You've got nothing against me." He seemed genuinely angry; even slightly nervous – could it be Sara's accusations had bothered him after all?

"I'm not here to interrogate you, Mr Bowran. I'm – I mean," Sara struggled to explain the complicated situation to a near stranger. "I'm off the case."

"So your boss came to his senses and fired you, did he? Glad to hear it – we can't have some hormonal woman firing random accusations all over the place now can we?" Philip Bowran smirked, reminding Sara of the reasons she had taken such a dislike to him the previous day. But still she remained civil.

"If you would just let me in for a moment, Mr Bowran. I feel I have an apology to make to you, and if you would just let me explain."

"Of course. And call me Philip, now we've established this is a social visit." Sarcasm lined Bowran's voice but still Sara held back, smiling graciously as she entered the house.

Possibly because he sensed Sara would rather have this encounter over and done with as quickly as possible, Bowran insisted on making her a cup of coffee whilst making niceties about the weather and traffic. Eventually, Sara had the chance to say what she had come for. She was convinced the visit had been for the best, even if she resented having to apologise to a man whom she still viewed as rude and aggressive. Already she felt proud of her self-control when it came to handling the visit and the treatment she had received.

"So, Mr Bowran."

"Philip."

"Philip." Sara confirmed, through gritted teeth. "Thank you for your welcome. I really just felt I owed you an apology. I've not been feeling at my best recently and my little eruption yesterday in the interview was the consequence of a few bad days. Unfortunately you were on the receiving end of my bad temper and for that I am truly sorry. This must be a very hard time for you and –"

Sara stopped midway in her rehearsed speech as she realised her one man audience was deeply distracted. Bowran was staring intensely out the window. Sara cleared her throat, unsubtly trying to regain his attention. When he turned from the window she was shocked by the look on his face. Gone was the satisfied smirk he had worn whilst realising he had the upper hand in the conversation and in its place had returned the look Sara had witnessed when he had first opened the door. Rage mingled with fear showed in his eyes.

"You told me you weren't here to interview me."

"I'm not," Sara replied, honestly confused.

"Then what are they doing here?" He gestured violently out of the window.

Sara moved over the window and cautiously peered through the blind. Approaching the driveway were Grissom and Nick.

"I don't like it when people lie to me, Ms Sidle."

Sara barely registered Bowran's comment. She was too busy panicking about how she could escape without having to speak to Grissom. She really, really could not deal with him right now.

But her thoughts were interrupted, all of a sudden, when a strong arm gripped her around the throat.

"I said, I DON'T LIKE IT WHEN PEOPLE LIE TO ME!'

She was soon to have much greater things to worry about.

* * *

"Isn't that Sara's car?" Nick questioned, as they approached Philip Bowran's house. 

"I wouldn't really know, Nick. But I doubt it. As I was trying to explain earlier –"

"Grissom, it was a rhetorical question. I know that's Sara's car. What the hell is she doing here?"

"We'll soon find out." Grissom tried not to let the relief and happiness he was feeling show in his voice. If Sara was here then it meant he could speak to her. He could say all the things he should have said in the corridor earlier. It meant she hadn't left yet. He wouldn't shout at her for mishandling the situation, despite the fact she really should not be interrogating a suspect right now. He would do all the things he had regretted not doing the moment she had fled the lab that morning.

However, his relief was to be short lived. As the two men walked up the driveway of Bowran's home, they heard shouting.

"Did you hear that?" Grissom's question was not heard by Nick, who had already broken into a run towards the front door. "Slow down!"

"Grissom, we think this guy killed his girlfriend! And Sara's in there with him!"

Grissom cursed himself and joined the race to the door. How could his relief at knowing where Sara was have clouded his judgement as to her location? She was inside that house with a possible murderer and he had just told Nick to slow down. No wonder Sara had had enough of him.

Nick forcefully kicked the door in and rushed inside, closely followed by Grissom. They rushed through the downstairs of the house, and then moved up to the bedrooms. But there was nothing.

They had no idea how he had done it such a short time, but Philip Bowran had escaped. And he had taken Sara with him.

* * *

_You really made a mistake, Ms Sidle. You thought you could visit me casually, get me to chat with you, make me think you were really sorry for your little performance yesterday. Well, congratulations, you deserve an Oscar – you nearly had me fooled. I was honestly beginning to believe that you weren't visiting me at the beck and call of your boss. I thought maybe you really were at my house out of some misguided reaction to your own guilt. But then your colleagues went and stuffed it up._

_I didn't plan this, you know. Just like I didn't plan to kill Jenny. I never meant to hurt her. I loved her. If she hadn't – well, I'm not going over that again. But it wasn't my fault. And neither is this._

_If your stupid boss hadn't turned up when he did... If that other guy hadn't decided to kick my door in… If they had just left us alone then I would have let you go. But they didn't._

_If I have to hurt you then it's not my fault. Blame them. I'm sure they will. _


	4. Chapter 4

"What do you mean they'd gone?"

Warrick Brown stood in the lab next to Catherine and Greg, struggling to take in what he was hearing. Only an hour ago Grissom had called them all together to tell them that Sara was gone, that she'd needed time off and she'd taken it, indefinitely. That she might not be coming back. They had all failed to comprehend the fact that one of the team could just leave like that.

Sure, Sara had been acting a little oddly recently, but that was Sara. They all knew there were some things they didn't know about her, that they would never know, and that even if they did they probably would never understand. So when she had started acting a little irrational sometimes, working twenty four hours on cases she didn't seem to be able to drop, they had been worried, but not overly so. And then they had been told she'd left. Just like that, out of the blue, as it seemed.

But now, before they had had time to mourn her departure; consider the fact that she had upped and left without saying goodbye, they were being told that she was back. Not physically, not in this room. In fact it seemed no one knew where she was. But they were being confronted with the fact that she had been taken, before she had had time to turn her decision into actions. And it was up to them to find her. Ok, so if they brought her back she may still decide to leave, but they were determined to let her make that decision.

"We did all we could." Nick struggled to maintain his composure. "One second we heard shouting, so we kicked our way in. But when we got there, there was no one. They'd gone. They must have got out of the back door."

"But Sara wouldn't have just given in like that." Catherine Willows had to admit that she and Sara had not always got on fantastically, but she would give the girl one thing: she was gutsy.

"Exactly."

Grissom did not have to put into words his thoughts. They were all thinking them. It would have taken considerable force to get Sara out of the house in such record time. They did not want to consider what force that may have been. But they were going to have to face facts some time. Philip Bowran probably killed his girlfriend. The attack had been brutal. She hadn't stood a chance. And now he had Sara. And he was very, very angry. The consequences did not bear thinking about.

* * *

Sara moaned gently as she opened her eyes. The room spun; a stripy wall pattern swimming before her eyes. Her body was throbbing. Her throat was bruised and swollen. Black-and-blue patterns were emerging all over her skin. She used her aching arms to pull herself into a position vaguely resembling upright.

What the hell had happened? All she had wanted was closure and now here she was, in a room with bad décor, covered in injuries she couldn't even remember receiving. Sara laughed bitterly at her own poor humour. Here she was, in the room that she would most probably die in, and she was judging the interior decoration.

Gently she pulled herself to her feet, ignoring the shooting pains throughout her body. There wasn't much to examine. The room was lit by one bright ceiling lamp; the light was beginning to hurt Sara's tired eyes. The one window was boarded up. The wallpaper was peeling; the wooden floorboards stained. Not exactly five star accommodation.

With each step Sara took, pain seared through her body, whist her pain threshold seemed to be falling rapidly. Accepting defeat for the time being, she slowly staggered over to a corner and lowered herself to the ground. Manoeuvring herself into a foetal position, she rocked herself into an uneasy sleep.

The one time she would have been fully justified to sob and she couldn't bring herself to cry a tear.

* * *

_I'm sorry I had to leave you in such a dump, my sweetheart. It's only temporary, I promise. We'll be gone soon. I'm beginning to realise that you and I must have been brought together by fate. This is the good thing that was meant to come from Jennifer's death. I knew there had to be something. It hurt too much for it to be pointless. But now I realise it was just meant to enable us to meet each other. We are meant to be together. I'm certain of it. Now I just have to make sure you understand that too. I'll do whatever it takes.

* * *

_

Grissom looked on as his team processed Philip Bowran's house. They had been here two hours and as yet they had found nothing. He wasn't certain how to interpret this. He tried to convince himself that no news was good news. They had found no traces of blood, so Sara couldn't have been hurt that badly. There was no sign of a weapon.

But on the other hand, no evidence meant they had no way of tracing Sara. It had been six hours since he and Nick had burst into the house and found nothing. No Philip Bowran. No Sara. And no way of finding them. Six hours. And they were no closer.

"This is useless." Grissom got up and headed for the door, avoiding the shards of broken glass that had been the result of their earlier forced entry. "There's nothing for us here."

"So what do you expect us to do?" Nick's voice revealed anger, but Grissom knew it wasn't aimed at him. They all felt as hopeless as each other. "Go home? Have dinner? Give up? Even though Sara could be lying in a ditch somewhere?"

"Don't even think that, Nick." Grissom attempted to contain the powerful emotions that had been conjured within him by even considering the idea that Sara could be dead. She wasn't. There was no way she could be. He would know, deep inside, if she were no longer alive. Wouldn't he?

"Then how can we leave here?" Nick went on. "This house is our only link to Sara."

"It's a pretty crap link," Catherine interrupted. "I have to agree with Gil, Nick. There's nothing else we can do here."

"All I'm saying is we should go back to the lab," Grissom suggested. "Greg is still there processing some of the evidence from the Jennifer Thornton case. We think Bowran killed Jennifer. That means that any of that evidence could lead us to him. And if we find Bowran, we find Sara. So, are we all agreed?"

* * *

The sound of footsteps approaching the door awoke Sarah with a start. Her body shook violently, reacting to the events of the last few hours, and she had no way to control it. The lock turned, and the door swung open. In stepped Philip Bowran. Sara may not have been able to recollect the events of the day but she was in no doubt as to whom the perpetrator of her attack had been. Anger seared through her aching bones, but she had no strength to fight back as she was pulled to her feet.

"Sara, honey, we're moving on."

"Don't you call me honey." Sara attempted to shout but her voice croaked under the pressure of her swollen throat.

"You don't mean that."

Bowran wrapped his arm around Sara's shoulders. She hated him touching her; holding her as though they were an ordinary couple rather than he her captor and she a helpless victim. But that's exactly what she was: helpless. She feared that should Bowran let go she would collapse onto the ground. And so she allowed him to guide her through the dark rooms of the dilapidated house until they reached the front door.

It was dark outside. Sara attempted to calculate how long that meant she had been in the room but the effort hurt her head. She glimpsed about. A car sat in the driveway. There was no light aside from a faint glow from one of the windows of the house. It appeared there must be no buildings for miles.

Yet as Bowran let go of her in order to reach for the car, and Sara realised she still had the strength to stand unaided, she suddenly felt a wave of defiance flow through her blood. When she had been in that room she had been convinced she was going to die in there. Death may still have been immanent, but she wasn't going down without a fight. When a team of CSIs had to examine her body she didn't want them to think she had given up.

Sara was amazed at how frankly she could consider her own death. No fear. No apprehension. Just acceptance, and a determination to do whatever she could to put it off. In fact she could think clearer than she had been able to for months.

And so she ran. As Bowran opened the car door, Sara turned and sprinted. Searing pains shot through her body. The night wind stung her eyes. But she felt free.

Until a hand gripped her arm.

"SARA!"

Still she struggled against the strong grip. "Let go of me, you son of a bitch!"

"WHY!"

Keeping his hand on her arm, Bowran whipped Sara's body towards his, his other hand making contact with her face.

"I WASN'T GOING TO HURT YOU!"

He slapped her again. Sara felt the last dregs of strength ebb away from her for the umpteenth time that day. Bowran continued to punch her. In the head, the arms, the stomach. Bright lights flashed before her eyes. She felt her body slump down on to the cold gravel path. And still he pummelled her body. And then everything went black.


	5. Chapter 5

"Hey, Greg."

The casual greeting sounded wrong to Warrick. In fact everything seemed wrong. People still bustled about the lab. There was still the familiar buzz of computers; the distant sounds of telephones ringing. Life hadn't stopped for Sara.

Warrick felt hatred towards those people who were still living as they had been doing 24 hours ago. For him, and the other members of the team, life had been turned upside down in the past day. How could it be that for some people the earth was still turning as normal? The moment they had heard the words, '_He's taken Sara', _leave Grissom's mouth, time had frozen for Warrick and the rest of the team. And whilst they all felt helpless and emotionally drained, it was up to them to start the clock again.

"Please tell me you've got some news for us."

"Nothing except that you can now be 99 sure that Philip Bowran killed Jennifer Thornton. He wasn't a careful killer. There were traces all over the place."

"Suggesting it was a crime of passion and anger, not a premeditated attack," Grissom added.

"Well that's just great," Nick began. "So now we know that the guy who has Sara is definitely a murderer, and that he kills when he gets angry. Just what we wanted to hear."

"At least it means he's probably not too careful. Sooner or later he'll leave something behind that'll take us too him."

"Sure. But unfortunately Sara can't afford for it to be later."

* * *

_Look at you. Bruised and battered. Poor, silly Sara. I thought you knew better than to run. It looks like it will be harder than I thought to make you realise the truth. Because it is the truth. We are meant to be together. You just don't know it yet. _

_I didn't enjoy hurting you. It's awful to see someone that you love in pain. But it had to be done. You had to realise that there's no point in trying to escape. Fate brought us together and I'm not going to let anything take us apart.

* * *

_

"Hey, you guys, look at this."

It took only a matter of seconds for the whole team to gather around Catherine. Yet another two hours had passed in which they had examined every piece of evidence they could find and searched for any useful information in every possible database. And still there had been nothing. Hope had been fading by the second, and despondency beginning to settle in. Until now.

"There's a holiday home down on the coast, booked for two weeks under the name of P. Bowran. Sounds like he was planning a holiday."

"But he and Jennifer never made it," Grissom noted.

"It's doesn't seem that far to go for a holiday."

"All the same, it seems a shame to waste a nice trip."

"Secluded location, off the beaten track. Just the type of place you might go if you wanted to get away from everything."

"Well, as the saying goes, you can run, but you can't hide."

The team of CSIs burst into action. This had to be it. The lead they had been searching for. They weren't even considering the possibility it might not be.

"Sara, here we come."

* * *

When Sara came to for the second time in 24 hours, she felt worse than she ever had done in living memory. Her eyelids were bruised and swollen, allowing her only to open her eyes a few millimetres to let a little light in. She could feel she was no longer lying on a hard surface, but on a sofa or a bed. But she could not even attempt to move. Her body was out of her control. It were as if she was fully paralysed, and she may have even believed she was, had it not been that she could feel the pain of her injuries far more vividly than she wished too. She certainly had not lost all feeling, although part of her wished she had.

No longer did she want to put off the immanent death. Now she wished it would just come. Anything was better than lying here in terrible pain. And death would provide a release from the thoughts running through her head. She had nothing to do except think and it was driving her insane.

What if she had just left without attempting to apologise to Philip Bowran? What if she had never broken down in front of Grissom? What if she had never exploded in that interview? Would she still be here, lying on a bed in a stuffy room, God knows where, waiting to die? She doubted it. But what ifs were pointless. She had done all those things. And this was the consequence.

What were the team doing right now? Having witnessed a side of Philip Bowran that she had never wanted to see, she could now guess why Grissom and Nick had been visiting him. But had they even realised she had been there? She had told Grissom not to expect to see her again. So would he even realise she had gone? Maybe they were all just getting on with life. Nick, Greg and Warrick going out for a drink after the shift. Catherine going home to Lindsey. None of them sparing a thought for Sara. And why should they? She had left them. They probably hated her. She had gone without saying goodbye, without any explanation. She could die here and they would never know; never care. And that was their prerogative. Who had she been kidding – she was replaceable. Each and every one of them could live without her.

Even Grissom.

Silent tears rolled down Sara's cheeks. Grissom. They had parted on such bad terms. She had shouted at him. She no longer could bring herself to feel any anger. How could she have hated him for his lack of emotion and understanding? That was part of him, and she should have accepted it. She should have enjoyed the relationship they had had; been satisfied with a beautiful friendship, rather than longing for more. Years of wanting what she could not have had eaten away at her. And look what it had left her with. Lying on her deathbed mourning what might have been. _Pathetic Sidle. Pull yourself together._

Once again, foreboding footsteps sounded, approaching the room. Sara's tears had only added to the difficulty in opening her eyes, and so she didn't try. Her job had heightened her senses and from the moment the door opened she knew who it was. From the overpowering smell of aftershave; the heavy footedness of his walk. Anyway, who else could it be?

His voice sent fear tingling down her spine.

"Oh, Sara, look at you. Promise me you won't try to leave again. Look what you made me do."

He sat down on the edge of the bed and stroked her cheek.

"Such a pretty face, all ruined. But I love you anyway. You know that, don't you? I'll love you no matter what."

His hand moved down from her face and began to explore her neck, then her shoulders, and then her chest. Cold shivers of revulsion rippled through Sara's body. No man had touched her like this for such a long time, and she was not going to let Philip Bowran do so now.

"Get off me," she growled through her damaged throat.

Still his hands explored, moving down her body. Then she felt his lips on her neck; his tongue touching her face. She attempted to cut herself off from her body; separate herself from what was happening, but she could not do it. She had no strength to fight, but as his lips met hers, and his tongue entered her dry mouth, she did the only thing she could think of. She bit his tongue, hard. She felt his blood drip onto her tongue as he darted back.

"YOU BITCH!"

She braced herself for another attack. But it never came. Instead she heard footsteps once again, this time leaving the room. And then the door shut and she was left alone once again.

Why did her do this to her? Why could he not just end it, now? Each moment she was still alive was just delaying the inevitable. And so she was left to wait once more.

* * *

_How could you do that to me? We were close, so very close. I wanted to feel you; to touch you; to hold you. To make you mine in the way that Jennifer once was. I couldn't bear the look on your face. You looked repulsed. Like you didn't want to be with me. How could you hurt me like that? This isn't going to work. You just won't trust me. A relationship is built on trust. We cannot be together like this – one sided relationships don't work. _

_But I know what I have to do. I won't deny I'm a little afraid but I know you're worth it. And together we'll have the strength to do it. We'll give each other the courage. What we're going to do is the ultimate display of love. Everyone will know that we were the perfect couple; that we were one._

_If we can't live together, then we'll just have to die together._


	6. Chapter 6

I hope everyone is enjoying my story; any more reviews will be welcome. This could be the last part I post for a week or two because on Sunday I head off to Spain for a week. I aimed to get a couple more chapters written and posted this week but unfortunately on Thursday I got caught up in the London bombings which rather complicated matters.

This week I have been carrying out work experience in London and on Thursday morning I nearly got onto the tube to Aldgate because it was raining but changed my mind and walked because I needed the exercise. I am now thanking my lucky stars for that decision. I approached Aldgate tube station on foot instead and witnessed the fire trucks, ambulances and police cars and heard the sirens. Unaware what was happening, and amid murmurs of explosions, I managed to squeeze my way around the back of the station, pushing through the police as the cordons went up, and got into the office.

For about an hour we believed it was only a power surge on the tube lines and watched events unfolding out of the window, but once the reports came through of the explosion on the bus we realised it was more serious. We were told it was unsafe to leave the office and to pull the blinds down and stay away from windows in case of another blast. We were stuck in the office for hours, preparing for evacuation if necessary, and had to rely on web updates to find out what was going on; our access to information was limited. At last we were able to leave and head home amidst a shocked London, a harsh contrast to the Olympic celebrations of the day before. It took a while to get home because of limited train services and closed streets in the area I was working but I was extremely fortunate because neither myself nor my family was injured. Others weren't so lucky: we know several people who were involved more than ourselves, and even were injured. My heart goes out to those who were seriously affected. The day certainly shook me up badly and put everything else into perspective. I never expected to be caught up in such a tragedy.

Anyway, I just felt a need to tell my story – after hundreds of phonecalls from friends and family reassuring them I'm ok, it feels better to actually write down what happened. Sorry that this is totally irrelevant, and once again I hope you enjoy this chapter.

* * *

Crammed into one car, the journey to the holiday home was not a comfortable one for Grissom, Catherine, Nick, Greg and Warrick. Had the situation not been so grave, it would almost have been humorous. All five of them squeezed in together. But it wasn't like a holiday. There was no joking or even chatting. Just deadly silence. They could not read each other's thoughts but they did not need to, for they were all thinking of only one thing. Sara.

It was so difficult for them to know what to think. They were all trying in vain not to get their hopes up. They could not allow it. If Sara wasn't in the house then what would they do? Back to stage one. It didn't bear thinking about. But if Sara was in the house, the possibilities were even worse. Better to be sent back to the beginning of the hunt than to reach the end only to find the one thing they could not cope with. It was a lose/lose situation. No matter where their minds strayed, nothing could make them see a bright future. They would arrive in only a few minutes and they were all too well aware that the likelihood of them finding Sara totally unharmed, sitting enjoying a cup of tea in the evening sunlight, was zero.

And another person who was far too well aware of that fact was Sara herself. How many hours now had she lain here? Death was approaching, but it was not going to come unaided. Her injuries were causing her unbearable pain but they weren't going to prove fatal. But one more beating would do so. And so it was just a matter of time. Eventually she would hear those footsteps once again; smell that aftershave; hear that voice. And it would be the last thing she ever heard. Not exactly the death she had envisaged for herself. But beggars can't be choosers. All she longed for now was for it to be quick.

* * *

_I'm sitting here, outside your door. I'm trying to breathe in and out slowly; to calm my nerves. This is our moment, and I'm not going to let my cowardice ruin it. Only a few minutes and I'll be ready. We'll be ready._

_Don't worry, my sweetheart, you won't feel a thing. All it will take is one little prick, and you won't even feel that. And then we can share our last few minutes together. It's the ultimate closeness, dying together. Sharing the final moments of life as one. _

_When they find us, they'll realise. They'll know that there was no way anyone could split us up. They will see that we made the ultimate sacrifice to be together. _

_It's going to be just like you: perfect.

* * *

_

At last their car pulled up in the driveway. Already parked there was another car: Philip Bowran's.

A mixture of relief and foreboding filled the CSIs. Catherine had done it. She'd found the lead they'd needed. And now they were here. They were about to confront their greatest fears. And there was no time to waste.

* * *

This was it.

Sara was determined not to show her fear, but as Philip Bowran approached her, her body had other ideas. She began to shake, and floods of tears ran down her cheeks.

And then, once again, the beating never came. She felt instead a handkerchief touch her face and gently wipe away her tears. And then, all of a sudden the moist hankie was clamped over her nose and mouth. As sobs wracked her aching body, Sara drew a deep breath and immediately knew the purpose of the handkerchief. Chloroform.

And then the world closed in around her, blackness enveloping her frail form.

This was it.

* * *

This time there was no need to kick the door down. It was slightly ajar and it took only a little push from Greg for it to creak open. Already the sound of sirens could be heard, as backup approached, but inside the house it was deadly silent. The team rushed in, running from one room to another frantically.

It was Grissom who found them. He stopped dead in his tracks. His blood ran cold. Could it be his worst nightmare had just been realised? Philip Bowran was sitting up against the bed. Sara's head was rested in his lap, her body sprawled across the floor. Her face was palid. He could see bruising all over her frail body. There was a cut in her forehead and her hair was matted; knots mingling with blood. But then he saw her chest rise and fall. The movement was tiny and weak, but it meant she was alive.

"Guys," he called out calmly. His eyes never left the gaze of Philip Bowran, who was staring back at him. "I think you better get in here. Now."

It took only a few seconds for them all to assemble in the doorway.

"What the hell have you done to her!" Nick cried. He tried to rush forward but was held back by Grissom.

"Don't you come near us!" Bowran shouted. But his cry was weak. He was fading fast. His breathing was shallow and laboured. His face was pale. By Grissom's calculations he didn't have long left. But that meant neither did Sara.

Grissom's eyes were drawn to the syringes sitting next to Bowran.

"What have you given her?"

Silence.

"You have to tell us."

Grissom realised that Bowran had begun to cry. Tears flowed down his pale cheeks.

"I didn't want to hurt her. But this is the only way we could be together. She's gone. It's too late. Just let me go with her. Please."

Grissom took a fleeting look at Sara. Her chest no longer appeared to be moving at all.

All of a sudden, paramedics appeared in the doorway. They glanced at Grissom for confirmation. He nodded. And they rushed forward.

Bowran cried out, but had no strength to fight back.

The team were hurried out of the room by the paramedics. Shocked and silent they stood outside the house. Warrick held Catherine in his arms; they attempted to support each other. Greg just stood, his eyes focused on the front door, waiting for somebody to emerge. Nick sat on the ground, his head in his hands.

And Grissom cried. He didn't care that people could see.

He felt useless. What good had he done? Catherine had found the house. He had found Sara, but then what? He had held Nick off because he wanted to speak to her attacker. He wanted to gain some understanding of him. And in that time Sara had stopped breathing. Even in her greatest hour of need, Grissom had failed Sara.

But he would not do so again. If he was lucky enough to be given the chance, he would look after Sara for the rest of his days. If she would let him. If she hadn't hated him before all this (which she probably had), she definitely would now. But he was going to try, all the same.

All of a sudden, the paramedics rushed out, with Sara lying on a stretcher. Grissom jumped into the ambulance right behind her.

This was his chance.


	7. Chapter 7

Thank you to everyone who replied (not just the last chapter, but in general - I realised I never really said thanks!). It made coming home from a lovely holiday slighty more bearable. Being the lucky girl that I am, next Saturday (30th) I go on holiday again, this time for a month! I get to visit Los Angeles - hooray! It's the closest I will have ever been to CSI territory! But also San Francisco, then Australia and Bangkok - it's the trip of a lifetime! Anyway,now I'm done showing off about my holidays, I do realise that means I will be unable to post for a month. Whilst I may be flattering myself in thinking that anyone cares about my fic, I did wonder if some people may want me to wrap it up before I go away, to avoid a month of being left hanging on. Therefore my aim is to have the last chapter up before next Friday. After this chapter I envisage probably 3 or 4 more, although as yet I have only completed chapter 8. Luckily the story is drawing itself to a close, so I do not have to make any special effort to have it finished.

Anyway, that's enough of my pointless rambling.I hope you enjoy the story!

Em x x

p.s. - Totallly random, thanks for your point. I totally agree and I have unblocked anonymous reviews - I never realised it was blocked in the first place!

* * *

I'm sorry, Mr Grissom, but Ms Sidle didn't make it."

Silent tears ran down Grissom's cheeks, the salty moisture soaking his face and running into his mouth. His body gave way beneath him, and he felt himself hit the floor…

And as he did so, he woke up. His dreaming was interrupted. Although you couldn't really call it dreaming. The situations running through Grissom's head were his very worst nightmares. He found himself lying on the floor in the sterile hospital room. He must have slid from the chair next to Sara's bed, where he had been sitting whilst resting his head on her pillow. He quickly pulled himself back into the chair lest anyone should see him, and listened for the reassuring bleeping of Sara's heart monitor, telling him, for the moment at least, that she was hanging on.

He glanced at her feeble frame. Her body was deathly pale, her veins visible through translucent skin. She would almost have resembled a white skinned china doll were it not for the blue-black bruises which interrupted the sea of paleness. Grissom could hardly bear to look at these injuries. They served as a reminder of the horrific ordeal Sara had been through. Viewing the cuts on her head, arms, and all over her body, he was gripped once more by the sense of uselessness that he had felt in that room with her and Bowran. She had been through the most terrible things, treated in ways no one ever deserved to be, and he had not been there to help.

The doctors had told him that she had been through a lot. That she had been resilient; fought the inevitable. That it was a miracle she was alive right now. Bowran had injected the two of them with morphine. Enough to kill in minutes. What with the brutal injuries Sara had already obtained, they should be thanking their lucky stars that she had made it this far. But that wasn't enough for Grissom. They had passed so many hurdles. They had found her, got her to hospital. He wasn't prepared to have them fall now. Having her lying unconscious in a hospital bed, albeit next to him, was not satisfaction. Satisfaction would come when Sara was back in that lab, walking, talking, joking, doing her job. And satisfaction would come when they were together.

"You hear that, Sara?" Grissom spoke authoritatively. "Don't you stop fighting now. You're the one in charge. All you need is the final push. You can get through this."

He sat there, holding her hand, but not daring to squeeze too tightly for fear of breaking her; such was the fragility of her appearance.

After a few minutes he felt himself dozing off again. He did not want to re-enter the worlds he visited whilst asleep but he knew he had no control. Since Sara had disappeared he had notslept a wink until he had settled in this hospital room, just over ten hours ago. Even thenhis rest had been fitful. Rotational visits from the other members of the team had passed the first couple of hours but soon they had realised they had to go home and get some rest. If they were honest with themselves they did not expect Sara to wake anytime soon. Whist the doctor had said Sara was not in a coma, her state of unconsciousness was deep, and they had been told it could be days before she even began to regain some awareness of her surroundings. It was going to be a long process, and whilst they weren't giving up, they knew their limits, and 36 hour days certainly pushed them. But Grissom had not even considered leaving Sara's side. He had been granted a second, or maybe even third, fourth – he didn't dare recall how many times he may have let her down before – chance, and he was not letting it go.

But sleeping at her bedside was allowed. He felt himself drift off…

And then, all of a sudden, a small noise awoke his shallow sleep. He glanced behind him, expecting a nurse to enter to make a regular obs check. But there was no one there. He turned around and gazed at Sara's face. His fatigue must be causing him to imagine things. But then he saw her eyelids flicker. It was only a tiny movement, but with it came another small noise.

"N-no."

"Sara, honey, I'm here."

As her eyes struggled to open beneath the heavy bruising, Sara began to shift uneasily in her bed, her lack of strength allowing her little more than small flailing movements of her arms and legs.

"No! Please! Leave me alone! I just want to die peacefully! Please!"

Her voice was small, but the anger and fear were as strong as if she had been shouting. She evidently did not know where she was. Grissom felt sick to the stomach to think that when she had been with Bowran she had wanted to die. And even sicker that she had mistaken him for Philip.

"No, Sara, honey. It's me. Gil." He tried to use his first name, thinking his surname sounded too impersonal, but soon realised it felt far too unfamiliar, as Sara never called him that. "Grissom. Sweetie, it's Grissom." He reached for her hand, but she snatched it away: the reflex action of someone who had learnt that human contact meant nothing but pain.

Grissom could not bear to see her this way. She began to kick more, her voice getting louder, what little strength she could muster being put into the fight. But she was fighting against an enemy that was no longer there.

"Leave me alone! Why are you doing this!" Tears were now flowing down her cheeks.

The noise she had been making was evidently enough to attract the attention of a nurse, who hurried in bearing angry stares aimed at Grissom. She opened her mouth to reprimand him for causing her stress but soon realised he had stepped away from the bed and was shocked and worried by Sara's outburst. So instead she pinned Sara's arms down and whispered soothingly into her ear. The flailing began to fade, and soon Sara was once again lying still, the crisp white bed sheets now creased and out of place. All that remained of the emotion was a few tears on her cheeks.

Grissom began to ask himself why he had failed for the umpteenth time, in comparison to this woman – a complete stranger – who could deal with Sara so calmly and successfully, but was interrupted by her arm ushering him out the door. He was reluctant to leave the room, but soon realised he had no option. Once outside, the woman spoke.

"It's good that Ms. Sidle's woken up, especially as it has happened faster than we hoped. It's a sign that her body's dealing with the morphine. Fingers crossed, she's through the worst as far as that goes. But she's evidently not aware of her surroundings as yet. And it's going to take more than a good hospital bed and some drips to get her through little episodes like that. She's been through a lot, poor woman, and her mental injuries are probably worse than the physical ones. I've given her a little sedative to send her back to sleep for now and it should take effect soon. But for now there's nothing more you can do. She's conscious again, but it'll be a few days at least until she leaves here. And unless you plan to live in that chair for a week-" Grissom did not interrupt, but he knew inside that he did, if that's what it took. "I suggest you go home."

He nodded, unable to argue with the strong character of the nurse. But as she walked away, he walked straight back through the door. As he entered he became aware of Sara mumbling. He tried to speak to her, but soon realised she could not hear him. So he sat patiently and listened instead. It was as though Sara was thinking out loud.

"When will this end? Do you think I deserve this?"

_No, Sara honey, of course you don't! _Grissom resisted the urge to shout out.

"No one's come to find me."

_We were trying, as fast as we could._

"They probably don't care."

_Don't even think that._

"Even Grissom."

He started at the sound of his name.

"I'll never get to tell him."

_Tell me what?_

"I wonder if he knows, deep down."

_If I know what?_

"If only he would sit down, every now and then, pay attention to me."

_Oh, my sweetheart, I'm so sorry. I never meant to ignore you._

"If only he would listen."

_I will! I'm all ears! Just tell me what you want me to know._

But there the murmuring stopped. Grissom had felt like an intruder listening, as though he was in her mind, and that was a place no one deserved to be except her. But now he needed to know what she had been talking about.

As he watched her chest rise and fall rhythmically, he realised the sedative had had the desired effect. He was not going to hear any more now. But that was probably for the best. She probably would not remember anything she said when she fully woke up. And confessions made whilst half asleep and when one's body was dealing with a cocktail of medicinal drugs were probably not to be trusted.

But one thing was for certain. When she did decide to talk, he would listen.


	8. Chapter 8

This time, Grissom's dreams did not feature Sara, but whilst the pain of reliving her death over and over was not present, a new frustration was. In his mind he was sitting in the lab. He was trying to analyse some evidence but all he could hear was a beeping. It continued steadily, distracting him and preventing him from focusing on the delicate work he needed to do. He looked around but could not trace the sound. He attempted to focus on his work but there was no way he could concentrate. He felt his anger build as the sound continued, an irritating background noise which was slowly driving him mad. As blood surged through his body he stood up and shouted with all his might.

"WON'T YOU JUST SHUT UP!"

And it did. Just like that, the noise stopped. But now, Grissom felt something was missing.It were as if the sound, for all the irritation it caused, was an essential addition to the situation. Something wasn't right.

He felt himself returning to the hospital. The lab faded, and the clinical bright whiteness of Sara's room came into focus. There was still no beeping, and Grissom tried to put a finger on why he was missing it so. And then it occurred to him. A moment of panic flooded his body as he glanced at Sara's heart monitor and saw a straight line.

"Sara!"

He pressed the panic call button and stood, staring at her body. It was just like back in the house. He had wasted time without taking action and now Sara's chest was, once again, still.

All of a sudden he was pushed back from the bed as doctors and nurses flooded the room. They removed the pillows so that Sara was lying flat on the bed.

"She's in cardiac arrest. Start chest compressions."

The calmness of the doctor's voice mirrored Grissom's feelings. As he watched the scene it was as though he was not actually there. He was seeing it, but through somebody else's eyes. As the nurse who had spoken to him earlier guided him out the door saying something like, "need space…wait outside…don't worry," Grissom did not put up any resistance. It was not until he was in the relative's room down the corridor that he realised what he had just witnessed.

Sara could be dead, and he had just watched her demise without even speaking.

He rushed out the door, his senses returning to him, and ran down the corridor. But Sara's room was empty. The bed had gone. Unsure of what to do next, Grissom headed back up the corridor, searching for the nearest reception to find out what was going on, and bumped straight into Catherine.

"Hey there, dozy! You should pay more attention to where you're going!"

Catherine's relaxed, joking greeting was totally out of place, and she soon realised it as she viewed Grissom's ashen face. Realising he was in danger of falling to the ground there and then, she guided him into the relative's room without asking any questions and waited a few moments for him to come to his senses.

"Alright? Are you sure you don't want to sit down, or get a drink or something?"

"No, I'm fine, I have to go-"

Catherine did not have to say anything; the look in her eyes stopped Grissom mid-sentence. He was in no state to argue. He knew he was not going anywhere until he had explained.

"It's Sara."

"Well, duh – we brought her here, remember."

"She woke up."

"Well, that's fantastic! The doctors reckoned it could be days! I told you she was a fighter. But then again, we all knew that."

"Then she fell back to sleep."

"Well, the poor girl probably needed her rest, after what she's been through." Catherine was beginning to sense that there was a lot, lot more Grissom had to tell her. He wasn't looking like someone had just walked over his grave because Sara had fallen asleep. But she decided not to hurry him. He could tell her in his own sweet time. Lord knows, if it was bad news she could wait a lifetime to hear it.

"And then I fell asleep." Silence. "And I heard beeping. And I told it to shut up. And it did. And I killed Sara."

"What?" Catherine was deeply confused by Grissom's short bursts of information.

"I killed her, Cath, it's all my fault! I had so many opportunities to help her, but I didn't!"

"Sara's dead?" Catherine fell into the armchair behind her. All of a sudden she felt like she had done ten rounds with Mike Tyson. This was the worst possible news; far worse than she had expected.

"Well, yes, I expect. I mean – she – I don't know."

"Did anyone tell you she had died?" Catherine realised she was not going to get clear information without probing.

"No, but-"

"Then she could be fine!" Catherine allowed herself a new lease of hope. "God, Gilbert Grissom – are you trying to give me a heart attack! Look, take a deep breath, and tell me what happened. What actually happened. What you saw."

"I woke up. And her heart monitor had stopped. Like in my dream. I didn't know what to do. I watched." Grissom's mode of short sentences had not disappeared, but at least Catherine felt she was getting truthful knowledge from him; some kind of sense at least. "She had been awake. I spoke to her. But she was scared. She fought. She shouted. She thought I was him. Philip Bowran. She thought I was going to hurt her!" He had begun to cry but Catherine knew better than to intervene. "Then she was murmuring. She never told me. I don't know what she wanted to say." The sense was fading from his words.

"The heart monitor, Gil. It stopped. What then?"

"The doctors came in. And the nurse. Cardiac arrest they said. Chest compressions. The nurse brought me here. I didn't even look. It was like it wasn't me. Like I was watching something on TV. Then I realised. Went to her room. She wasn't there. She's gone."

"Maybe she needed some different treatment. Maybe they took her into another room to recover. Maybe you went into the wrong room! Hell, Gil, there could be a million reasons for that."

With each suggestion Catherine saw Grissom calm down slightly, and begin to resemble his usual self a little more. She couldn't deny the relief she felt. She loved Grissom as a friend, and she could not bear to see him hurting like that, but she really did not know how to deal with him when he had tears streaming down his face. It wasn't that she was surprised how he was reacting – everyone knew he and Sara were made for each other, and when someone you love like that is hurt – well, it didn't bear thinking about. But she had never seen him like this. He was always so composed. And so when he opened his mouth again, and sounded more like Gilbert Grissom, entomologist of the Las Vegas Crime Lab, than Gilbert Grissom, emotional wreck, she was certainly relieved.

"You're right, Catherine. I'm really sorry. But now I really have to go find someone. I need to know where she is. I need to see her."

"Of course, I understand. I'll come with you."

But before they could leave the room, the door swung open. Perfectly timed, a doctor walked in.

They were about to find out everything they needed to know.


	9. Chapter 9

Thank you for all the reviews - they mean a lot! I have actually now completed this story- it made me feel surprisingly sad to do so! That means I can tell you on authority that there are 11 chapters - 2 more after this one, so start counting down folks!

It's a bit early to be asking, as this one still isn't fully posted, but I'm thinking of starting another story which obviously I would start posting once back from my holiday (the beginning of September) and I wondered if anyone thinks I should; if anyone would be interested in reading. I'm toying with the idea of a slightly more general story, not focusing centrally on Sara and Grissom but dealing with all the members of the team and their relationships, although it possibly would contain a little GSR. That's about as far as I've got in my planning - as you can see it's at the very early stages, but please review with comments on this story and any comments on my impending second fic!

Thanks!

Em x x

* * *

"So?" Grissom probed impatiently, unable to wait to hear of Sara's fate. He could not stand the fact that her life was in the hands of people he didn't know. Not knowing where she was in the hospital had felt worse than not knowing where she was when she had been with Philip Bowran, even though he knew his fears were, in these circumstances, much more unfounded. Yet still he tried to keep himself calm. His conversation with Catherine had highlighted to himself how irrationally he had been acting. He needed to stay calm for everyone's sake, not least Sara. "Is it good news or bad?" 

"I'm afraid it's not as clear cut as that, Mr Grissom."

"But she's alive? Please tell me she's alive."

"She's alive."

"Oh, thank God," Catherine intervened. She placed a hand on Grissom's arm. "I told you, Gil – no need to jump to conclusions."

The doctor went on. "I don't want to cause you excess worry but equally I don't want to get your hopes up. If you'd like to sit down, Mr Grissom and-"

"Willows, Catherine Willows."

"-Ms Willows, and I can try to explain to you the situation."

"I want to see her," Grissom insisted.

"I'm afraid you can't see her right now. And I really feel it is imperative that you understand what is going on."

Grissom took a deep breath to try and calm his fraught nerves and glanced at Catherine, who smiled supportively. Together they took a seat, and the doctor followed suit. She smiled reassuringly at them, maintaining eye contact as she spoke, her voice sickeningly calm and friendly. Grissom recognised her techniques as those he had so frequently adopted when talking to witnesses or victim's families, but never before had he realised quite how frustrating they were at such difficult times. All the same, he listened. He couldn't afford not to.

"Ms Sidle's body suffered greatly from the morphine overdose administered to her," she began.

"But I was told she was over the worst of that," Grissom interrupted.

"I know, Mr Grissom, and we still believe that. But unfortunately the reaction to the drug masked the severity of her other injuries. As I am sure you're aware, Ms Sidle suffered greatly as a result of multiple beatings, and traumas to the head and other areas of her body. Once her body had begun to overcome the morphine it suddenly was forced to give in to other problems."

"What other problems?"

"Ms Sidle is bleeding internally as a result of beatings to her stomach."

"Oh God. Where is she now?"

"We've taken her into theatre."

Grissom jumped up again. "She's being operated on now! Why was no one consulted!"

"I'm afraid Ms Sidle has no registered next of kin. And as you are not a family member-" The doctor trailed off but then went on. "Anyway, we really had no choice. Once we successfully resuscitated Ms Sidle it became clear we had to take action there and then."

Sitting back down, Grissom sighed deeply. "This is serious, isn't it," he commented, as though the reality of the situation was just hitting him.

"I'm afraid so, Mr Grissom. But you have to remember that most people would never have got as far as Ms Sidle already has. After the number of beatings she received and then the drug overdose – well, most people would have given up long ago. The fact that she has made it this far can be nothing but encouraging. I can assure you we will do everything possible to help Ms Sidle. And I am also certain she will keep fighting. There's no way she's willing to give in – this is one young woman who really doesn't want to die just yet."

And with that the doctor stood up, shaking hands with Grissom, who was slowly digesting what he had heard, and Catherine, who thanked her quietly.

"We appreciate you taking the time to explain."

"I can assure you it's my pleasure. If there's any further news I will update you. But for now, as I said, there's nothing more you can do."

As the doctor left the room, Catherine heard a muttering behind her.

"Sorry, did you say something, Gil?"

"She's not right you know."

"What?"

"About Sara. About her not wanting to die. She did."

"What?" Catherine repeated, gazing open mouthed at Grissom's revelations.

"She told me so. 'Just let me die', she said."

"She wasn't fully conscious, Gil. She didn't know where she was."

"Exactly. She didn't know I was there. Otherwise she wouldn't have admitted it. But she was telling the truth. She wanted to die. And let's face it, who could blame her? She's been through hell, Catherine. And I never did anything to help."

"We did our best, Gil. We got to her as fast as we could."

"I don't just mean over the last few days."

"Then what do you mean?" Catherine was beginning to get frustrated with Grissom's vague comments, but tried to sound understanding, realising that he was really going through hell right now.

"She was falling apart, Catherine. Long before that. The day she got taken, when she decided to leave. I told all of you she was going, but I never told you why."

Realising some revelations were to follow, Catherine sat back into her seat.

Grissom began to explain. "She exploded in that interview with Philip Bowran."

"I know," Catherine said. "I heard about that. I assumed Sara was just having a bad day."

"I think every day was bad for her, Catherine. I told her to go home, to take some leave. But she came in the next day." Grissom seemed to grow emotional as he remembered the events which had occurred only two days ago, but now felt so distant. "I was so uncaring. She broke down. Tears and shouting and everything. Right in front of me. And I did nothing. She quit. Because of me. She was suffering, Cath. I still don't really know why, but something inside was killing her. And I was never there to listen."

Catherine still was not entirely sure of what she was hearing but she realised that reassurance was what Grissom needed.

"It's not your fault, Gil. Sara was never willing to talk. That was her way. She didn't want to confide in us."

"What if she did? But we weren't there?"

"We were always there, Gil. Or rather she was. She never went home."

"Exactly. Shouldn't we have been worried by that?"

"We were! Don't you remember? How many chats did we have about Sara? But we all knew there was nothing we could do. There's no point in beating yourself up over it, Gil. Just because we weren't there this once, does not mean we failed Sara completely. We're here aren't we? Right now we are showing Sara what she means to us. How long did you sit by her bedside?" There was no verbal reply, but Catherine unwittingly smiled at the large bags under Grissom's eyes which said more than words ever could. "We are demonstrating that we care. That Sara means something to us. So if – when," she corrected herself, "Sara gets out of theatre, we will go and sit with her and when she wakes up she will know how much we care."

Grissom smiled weakly at Catherine, more grateful for her reassurance than she would ever know.

"Oh, come here," she laughed, and pulled Grissom into a massive hug. They both needed each other's strength right now.

Eventually they pulled apart and both sat down to wait for more news. When it did come, they could not have been more relieved. Another hurdle passed. And so they did what Catherine had said they would. They sat by Sara's bedside, both ready to remind her when she woke how much she meant to them.

* * *

_What's happened? Sara my love, my plans have fallen apart. How did I end up here – in a clinical hospital room? Our end was meant to come perfectly, together up to heaven. But I'm still here on earth and I so hope you are too. I would have preferred we could have gone together but if I'm still here the only thing that will keep me going is if you are alive too._

_I think you are. I would know if you weren't. Our link is so strong._

_And that means I have to find you. I can't move right now, but it won't be long. I don't know what we're going to do, but I have to see you again. When I do, everything will click into place. Don't you worry your pretty little face, my darling Sara. It's not over yet._


	10. Chapter 10

As Catherine begun to wake up, a crick in her neck from the awkward half sitting-half lying position she had dozed off in a couple of hours ago, she was immediately aware of Grissom's eyes upon her.

"You're awake."

"Looks that way," Catherine replied, her voice hoarse. "But I bet you have been for a while."

"Never really slept," came Grissom's grim reply as his eyes moved over to Sara's withered body, further emaciated than it had been before her operation, if that was possible. "Every time my eyes began to shut I thought I heard something. But there was nothing. Yet." He squeezed Sara's hand encouragingly. "But no one's giving up."

Catherine smiled at him. This was definitely an improvement upon Grissom's attitude when she had first arrived. She attempted to stifle a yawn as she too watched Sara's chest rise and fall steadily, albeit weakly.

"You should go home," Grissom suggested, obviously not at all fooled by the attempted cover-up. "You evidently need some more rest."

"What, and you don't?" came Catherine's sarcastic reply. "If you can sit here for hours on end without a wink of sleep then so can I. You're here to support Sara, but who's here to support you?"

"I presume you think that's where you come in."

"We can't expect you to get through this alone."

"I'm not alone." Grissom started lovingly at Sara and Catherine began to realise she was fighting a losing battle.

"But Sara-"

"I'll be here. And I'll call you the minute I get any news. I'll tell her you were here. Don't you worry – she'll know how much you did for her."

Accepting her loss of the argument, Catherine stood up. Her head spun, flashing lights in front of her eyes. Obviously she was more exhausted than she realised. She grabbed hold of the bedside cabinet. Grissom immediately stood up and moved round the bed to take hold of her arm.

"You're just proving my point now, Cath."

"I don't know how you cope, Gil. These long days with virtually no sleep are nearly killing me."

"Practise, Cath, Practise. Now let me take you down to your car."

"There's no need. And anyway-" She gestured towards Sara's bed.

Grissom evidently had considered this, and the tortured look on his face made Catherine realise this was no easy decision for him. "No, it's fine, really. I'll only be gone a few minutes." As they walked through the door he glanced back at Sara's bed and Catherine felt his step quicken. However, the migraine she could feel coming on allowed her only to take slow steps and despite the guilt she felt for dragging Grissom away, she was glad for his support.

After all, all they had at times like these was each other.

* * *

Sara's eyes began to flicker open. Through small slits she allowed some light in and she soon realised she was in a hospital. The whiteness she was letting in through her bruised eyelids told her that. She had little recollection of anything. Bowran. Him beating her. Blackness. And then something else – something that was particularly unclear. Someone speaking to her. Nick had been here. And Catherine. She had had visitors. And Grissom? She was sure he had been here.

She was suddenly aware of a pressure on her hand. Someone was holding her.

"Grissom?"

"It's alright, honey, I'm here."

"Is that you? Oh, Grissom."

His voice was muffled through her blocked, tired ears, but the feelings that she felt as a result of his touch on her hand were all too familiar.

But then, all of a sudden, her nose began to detect something. A smell which had connotations not of Grissom but of someone she was much less keen to have near her.

"GET OFF ME!" she cried, as she pulled her hand away from the strong male grip and forced her eyes open, wincing at the pain. Sure enough, there in front of her was Philip Bowran, tears running down his face.

"Oh, Sara, I knew you were alive."

Her worst fears realised, Sara screwed her eyes shut again, praying that someone would walk through the door of her room any second.

"I'm so sorry. It wasn't meant to happen like this. I don't know what to do! You have to help me, Sara. Everything's such a mess. First Jennifer and now this. Everything was so perfect. Only a few days ago-" And there Bowran broke down, tears cascading down his cheeks; his crying turning in too full blown sobs, each one wracking his body. He wrapped his arms around Sara and sobbed into her chest, his salty tears soaking through the thin hospital robe she was dressed in. She shivered in revulsion, the touch of his body on hers disgusting her as much as it had done the previous day.

But she was no longer afraid. She realised that Bowran no longer posed any danger to her. He was to be pitied not feared. Nothing he could do now could harm her. Not here, not with him in this state. He had attempted to take his own life too, and he was as weak as, if not weaker than, her.

As she felt his tears subside and his body grow still, she slowly opened her eyes, expecting him to sit up. But he did not move. She glanced down at her chest where his head was rested, and suddenly became aware of a pool of deep red. Blood seeping from Bowran's chest onto the side of her bed. He must have pulled his drips out, she thought, suddenly overcome with feelings of compassion for this pathetic figure.

If she did nothing now, she would never be able to live with herself. She was not going to let Bowran leave her with a feeling of guilt for the rest of her life, even after his own death.

She leaned over, the strain of her movement sending ripples of pain throughout her body, pressed the panic button, and waited.

* * *

As Grissom approached Sara's door on his return from Catherine's car, the sound of the emergency alarm immediately sending him into a mad sprint, the sight before him could not have been more of a shock. But at the sight of Philip Bowran's body sprawled over Sara's, blood staining the bedsheets, he knew this time he was not going to hesitate.

He rushed over, removing Bowran from the bed and placing him onto the chair, preparing himself to have to enter a fight once more for Sara's life. But instead he realised the blood had not come from her body but from Bowran's. And as the doctors rushed in and began to deal with him, Grissom could not have cared less. He knew Bowran was already gone. And anyway, all he cared about was Sara. He waved the doctors away as they tried to approach Sara, silently confirming that she was unharmed.

He sat on the side of her bed and took her hand. Her eyes were tightly shut, although certainly not because she was sleeping, but at the touch of his hand, they flickered open.

"Grissom."

This time there was no question. This time the touch of his hand was unmistakable.

"Sara." He stroked her cheek gently as he spoke. "You're awake."

"You're here."

"Where else would I be?"

A single tear rolled down her cheek, but at the same time she began to laugh gently. Something inside her changed. Something felt different. After all the months of turmoil inside her body, she suddenly felt calm.

"It's over, Grissom."

"I know. Bowran's never coming back. You're safe."

"I don't just mean that. It's all over. You're here. I'm here. And the earth's stillturning."

Grissom began to laugh at Sara's melodramatic phrasing, and she continued to laugh with him. And as Grissom laid his head on her chest, in the same spot where Bowran had lain only a few moments ago, everything clicked into place. They simply lay there, laughing with each other, ignoring the chaos around them, until they dozed off in each other's arms.

Neither had ever slept so soundly.


	11. Chapter 11

When they woke, both Sara and Grissom immediately had feelings different to any they had experienced recently. Despite Sara's injuries, not to mention the fact she had just undergone major surgery, and the fact that Grissom was lying in a position which was undoubtedly guaranteeing him back problems in the future, both felt totally comfortable. Despite the fact that only 24 hours ago Sara had been in the most dangerous situation she had ever encountered, and Grissom had been worrying more than ever in his life, both felt totally calm. Despite the fact they were both still exactly the same people they had been yesterday, both felt changed.

They had come through. They had been to hell and back but they had made it, and in one piece. Well, almost.

And now here they were, waking up together. The room was drowned with sunlight. The scene may have been missing birdsong, breakfast in bed and a four poster bed, but the hospital equipment, smell of disinfectant and drips attached to Sara's still frail, but rapidly recovering body could not detract from the beauty of the situation.

"It's ironic really, don't you think?" Grissom questioned, interrupting the silence of the room, previously only broken by the beep of the heart monitor.

"What?" Sara murmured, revelling in the feeling of Grissom's head on her chest, and internally feeling deeply disappointed as he lifted it to gaze at her instead.

"It's only when you're lying in a hospital bed, and I'm sitting next to you sick with worry that we can begin to admit our feelings for each other."

"Speak for yourself! You may have made some startling announcements to me whilst I was unconscious, but as far as I know I have admitted nothing to you as yet!" Sara's tone was teasing, and Grissom knew that should he prompt her, she would have no qualms about doing so now. There was no need to mention the thing that had been preying on his mind. But he could not resist.

"Well, you almost did."

"Huh?" Sara's eyes changed from joking to questioning.

Grissom could not help himself: he poured out to Sara the story of her mumbling to herself after her minor panic attack. It had been causing him turmoil ever since it had occurred. As Sara began to turn a slight shade of pink, and revealed she had no recollection of any of it, Grissom began to fear he had made a mistake. He had embarrassed her; tried to force her to confess something she didn't even remember. And just when everything had been so perfect. He started to apologise, but was interrupted by Sara.

"Hold up a minute. I may not be able to remember, but I bet I could take a good guess at what it was I wanted to tell you." Desperate not to interrupt her at such a crucial point, Grissom let Sara continue at her own pace. "While I was locked away in that room, and then on that bed; when I was lying there waiting to die-" A flash of pain and fear crossed Sara's face as she recalled the horrific memories, but she shook it away before Grissom had time to try and comfort her. "When I thought that I'd never see you, or Catherine, or Nick, or any of you, again, I did a lot of thinking. And boy did I come up with a lot of things I wished I'd said to you. And I expect had that sedative not kicked in when it did, I probably would have come out and confessed it all to you. And then woken up and not remembered." She laughed. "Boy, am I glad it turned out like this instead. I prefer to be aware of it when I start confessing my feelings to the man I-" And there she stopped, seemingly unsure what to say next. Her face flushed slightly again and she shifted in the bed. "Could you help me sit up?"

Grissom did so gladly, plumping cushions behind Sara's back so she no longer had to speak to the ceiling, but could maintain eye contact with Grissom. Recovering from her slight break in speech she continued.

"So, do you want the bad or the good first?"

The look on Grissom's face made Sara laugh. He evidently wasn't prepared for the fact that Sara had planned a few not so pleasant things to say to him. She didn't give him time to reply.

"How about I just go with the flow – see where this little confession takes me. I'm not really prepared for this. I thought I'd never have the chance to actually say any of it, you see. That was kind of the point!"

"You don't have to tell me anything."

"Don't be stupid. I should be thankful that I have the opportunity. Anyway, the first thing I wanted to say to you was that you're a right git sometimes, Gil Grissom." Grissom stared open-mouthed, sincerely hoping the best was yet to come. "You never seem to have any idea when someone's not in the mood to talk, or when they are, or when they need someone to listen, or a shoulder to cry on. And you never realise when they don't really feel like talking bugs, or corpses. Sometimes you treat people like pieces of evidence. And that includes me." Grissom opened his mouth to argue. Sara shook her head. "Uh-uh. I'm not finished yet. For someone who is unnaturally intelligent you have very little understanding of human emotions or moods. And yes, that really gets to me sometimes."

"So I can see." Grissom looked definitely shocked by what he had just heard. Ok, so he knew it was all true, but it still hurt coming from Sara's mouth. Not because he was offended, but because he couldn't stand the thought that Sara had seen him like that.

"Wait up. There's a but. And a big one, too. Whilst I was mulling all this over, using it as an attempt to take my mind off everything else that was going on, I realised that I was stupid to be angry with you for your personality. That I had no reason to blow up in your face that day-"

"You did, I-"

"Shut up, Grissom!" Sara interrupted, exasperated but affectionate. "What was I saying about you never knowing when all I needed was someone to listen? Now be quiet before I change my mind about what I'm going to say."

"Sorry."

"I had no reason to blow up in your face, because I should accept the way you are, and not attempt to change you. Ok, so you're not always the best listener in the world. And sometimes you seem to be far keener on spending time with your bugs than the team. And very often you appear to have the communication skills of one of those bugs." She laughed. "But would I want you any other way? No. So why complain? Why moan about you being the way you are, when I'd probably be more pissed off if you changed? I'm- well- I like you how you are. And I don't want you to change." She took his hand in hers and squeezed it. "So, there we go. That's what I wanted to say."

"That I'm bloody annoying but that you'll put up with me?"

Sara slapped him on the arm playfully. "Shut up! It took a lot for me to confess that."

"Now it's my turn. I happen to think you were quite right to shout at me. And don't even think about protesting. I'd been a bit of an idiot and I deserved it. And I know the things I do wrong, and I promise I'll try to listen more. I know you say you don't want me to change, but I'm sure if I made a couple of little alterations for the better, you wouldn't complain?"

"I suppose not."

"You gave me a real scare, Sara. For a few seconds I had to imagine life without you, and I couldn't." Sara took hold of his hand again as she saw his eyes fill up. "Now I've been given a second chance, and I'm not letting you go. Sara-" He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it gently. "I- I love you, Sara."

Now it was Sara's turn for her eyes to fill up, a familiar feeling for someone who had cried quite a lot recently, but this time the tears were for an entirely different, and more welcome, reason.

"Oh, Grissom, I love you too."

* * *

"God, you two aren't going to go all domestic on us, are you?" Warrick joked as the whole team were reunited around Sara's bed. She had more colour in her cheeks and not one of them was in doubt that Grissom had had something to do with her recovery. There had been no formal announcement, but their arrival to find Sara sitting with Grissom's arm around her, the pair holding hands and gazing into each other's eyes, kind of gave the game away.

"Yeah," continued Catherine, a twinkle in her eye; her migraine faded into insignificance upon hearing the news that Sara was awake. "We can't have lovers' tiffs in the lab."

"We'll keep our working relationship strictly professional, don't you worry," laughed Grissom, his eyes still not shifting from Sara's.

"You better be back in the lab soon, Sara. A certain somebody is getting far too over confident without you to put down his jokes and reject him on a regular basis." Nick elbowed Greg in the ribs, and Sara laughed.

"Hey!" Greg protested. "That's not fair! Anyway, I know Sara loves my jokes really." He winked at her.

"Watch it." Grissom mock threatened him. "You're going to have to stop coming onto Sara, now she's my girlfriend!"

"Girlfriend, ay?" Sara interrupted.

"You're right, that does sound rather like we're teenagers."

"Actually I meant you're being slightly overconfident – did I ever agree to anything?"

Grissom's face looked worried for a second, but when the entire group started laughing, he soon realised he was suffering again from his lack of communication skills.

"You're really going to have to get better at detecting jokes when you hear them."

Grissom recovered from the slight embarrassment quickly. "Well, actually you're right – I never officially asked you." He turned to look her straight in the eye. "Sara Sidle, will you go out with me?"

Now it was Sara's turn to look a little embarrassed. "Don't be stupid, Grissom, there's no need to ask."

"I'd like an answer, please!"

"Will this do?" She leaned over and brushed his lips lightly with her own.

The kiss was greeted with a whoop from Greg. Nick and Warrick averted their eyes, embarrassed to see their two friends so intimate. And if Sara wasn't mistaken she saw a tear in Catherine's eye.

But it was Grissom's reaction that really mattered.

And as he leant in for another kiss, she knew everything was going to be alright.

* * *

So that's it folks! Wow - can't believe I actually finished it! All reviews welcome - it's your last chance! And any comments or suggestions fora next story (which I am keen to write) are welcome.

I hope you enjoyed the story, and I'll see you in September!


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